Page 112 of Bake the Town Red

Except my obsession with her didn’t care for facts. It never did.

In November of that year, I tattooed my version of my woman all over my back. The one I held back from showing her. The timing needed to be right.

This is it. Here, in my bed.

As soon as I’m done with this.

“You’re a temptation.” I rub a sterilized cloth over the top of her left breast. “The forbidden, poisoned fruit. My little savage. Christ, you look beautiful when you sleep. When you’re helpless. When you’re at my mercy.”

Calm and angelic. That’s what she is as I kiss the area around her freshly inked skin. She doesn’t even stir when I bite the nipple below her new tattoo.

“Mine.” The word isn’t just something I say anymore. It isn’t a claim on a woman I can never have.

This time, I mean it. As I stare down at the naked woman with her wrists bound and arms held over her head, I see it too.

Mine.

She isn’t up yet, and I can’t wait. Can’t hold back and watch her.

She wanted this? To be mine? Well, she’s getting it. Every depraved inch of me.

While she’s breathing softly, I lick each of her nipples. Lie on top of her, feeling her warmth bleeding through her bare body and into my T-shirt and sweats I changed into.

With my hands around her face, I start dry fucking. I grunt and curse. Lick her lips, trailing kisses and biting the length of her neck.

The chastity belt isn’t there anymore. It looked gorgeous on her. But nothing beats having her completely naked.

Exactly like I want her. Exactly like I’ll have her for however long we have.

“Where…” Finally, her eyelids flutter. Her forehead scrunches.

She’s awake.

I twist her nipple and pull, jolting her out of her drug-induced sleep.

“What the actual fuck?” Dahlia’s fury spikes when she realizes her arms are stretched over her head, bound together with a zip tie.

It must be why the sting of the tattoo hasn’t registered just yet.

“Morning, prisoner.”

“Prisoner?” Her attempt at sounding angry falls flat. “Seriously? Oh, fuck, that’s good.”

My teeth clamp on her snake tattoo. I bite and suck on it, willing her scar to go away. Again. She groans, in part pleasure, part pain.

All mine.

I straighten my elbows to watch her face. What I get is her lifting her arms off the bed, her clamped hands about to hit me in the forehead.

“Little savage.” My cock jerks a second before I catch her mid-flight and force her arms back down to the bed. Her cheeks flush, her lips pinch together. “Haven’t you learned anything from this punishment?”

“I’ve learned that you get hard from kidnapping me.”

Well, she’s not wrong there.

“Did you rape me?” Frowning and snarling shouldn’t look this good on anyone.

They do on her.

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